Secret Words
by Argent Gale
Summary: This started out as a super short one shot but it keeps growing! I didn't think it would be this popular. Carol and Daryl exchange little notes sharing their feelings. Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of The Walking Dead.
1. Chapter 1

To busy herself, Carol decided to tidy up the kitchen area. The mindless task of gathering up plates and cups from the morning meal was a nice distraction. The morning light was soft, it was quiet, and for just a moment she felt…normal.

Placing a stack of plates on a counter, she noticed a worn notebook. Perhaps it was Hershel's. She noticed him sometimes scribbling notes in his precise, flowing script, usually on whatever was handy. This poor notebook had definitely seen better days.

Haphazardly she flipped open the cover to see if she could find a clue to its owner. Inside, there was no flowing, neat script. Scratchy, jumbled words. Definitely not Hershel's writing. Maybe it belonged to one of the guards before things went to hell. She was just about to close it up and toss it on the counter when she noticed her name.

Her hands started to shake as she began to read. Her heart began to pound as she flipped through page after page of words of love and pure emotion. There was no real rhyme or reason to the scratchy writing. In its rawness it was beautiful.

He couldn't tell her to her face but he could write it down describing the softness of her smile and her blue eyes. The way it made him feel when her hand brushed his.

It was all too clear who this book belonged to.

Face burning and her heart thumping in her chest she was just about to put it back on the counter when she heard his slow drawl. "Ain't nobody told ya it's rude to go through things that don't belong to ya?"


	2. Chapter 2

Secret Words II

It wasn't there. He stared dumbly at the secret spot under his bed where he kept the notebook. The cherrywood box was empty. It wasn't there.

His mind raced thinking back. Retracing his steps from earlier. Then it hit him. He had been scribbling some thoughts down when he felt the urge for a quick cigarette break. Not thinking, he must have carried the book with him. He remembered pausing in the kitchen area looking for a cup to get some water. He had to have left it there. If there was a God, nobody found it.

Cursing under his breath he raced to the dining area trying to look as casual as possible.

It looked like the room was empty. He was drawing breath to breathe a sigh of relief when he rounded the corner to see the one person he didn't want reading that damn book, paging through it.

There was no escape now. She held the book in her hands, paging slowly through it. He could see her lips moving as she read. His heart sank. His cheeks burned. He thought about slinking off, but then an ember of anger burned in him. How dare she? How dare she pick up something not hers, not her business, and just go through it?

"Ain't nobody told ya it's rude to go through things that don't belong to ya?" he growled.

She jumped and gasped, "Daryl! I…uh…. I found this on the counter. I didn't realize..."

He didn't let her finish. "What? Didn't realize I could write words? Sentences?" He knew his tone was sharp and part of him felt bad when she flinched. Dammit.

"Daryl, no. Oh no. Not that at all." Carol replied softly. She was clutching the notebook to her chest. Her eyes were glinting in the morning light. Was she….crying?

"Daryl, you write so beautifully. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to go through your personal stuff." She slowly walked towards him. "Please don't stop writing, you do it so well. I'm so honored you chose to write about me." She whispered softly.

Daryl's mouth suddenly got very dry. Before giving him his book back, Carol gently kissed the cover, then quietly handed back to him.

"I'm sorry I upset you Daryl."

When she placed that book in his hands it was like an electric current ran through him. He was tingling from his fingertips to his shoulders.

He nodded curtly then mumbled, "It's alright. My dumb fault for leaving it out. I'll let you finish up here." He spun on his heel and was gone, leaving her alone.

That night, and many nights thereafter, when Carol retired for the evening she would find on her pillow a scrap of paper with that scratchy writing. Sometimes it contained just a sentence or two; sometimes it was a whole paragraph but it always warmed her when she read how she made him feel.


	3. Chapter 3

He paused outside her door. He had her routine down pat. Every evening she helped Beth get Judith ready for bed. This is when he took the opportunity to steal into her cell and leave his note. He was then able to slip away unseen so he avoided any awkward confrontation. This little ritual had taken place for a few weeks now.

His thoughts drifted back to earlier that afternoon. She was watching the children playing a game in the prison yard. Peals of laughter and squeals of delight bounced of the block walls. She stood with her arms crossed, a smile on her lips. Their antics would cause her to shake her head and a few times she allowed a throaty laugh to escape.

He had come up behind her. She didn't know he was there. She took a step back and bumped into him, almost losing her balance. He caught her, his hands steadying her waist. Her sharp intake of breath made shivers run down his spine. He held her for a precious heartbeat, then let her go. "Daryl." she smiled up at him. His name sounded like a prayer on her lips.

They stood in easy silence and watched the children. They didn't say one word to one another. They didn't have to. Her blue eyes shining, she gave his hand a squeeze before she went back into the prison.

After checking to be sure the coast was clear he stepped inside her cell. Somehow she managed to make a dingy prison cell homey. Pictures drawn by the children were tacked to her wall. A mason jar of wildflowers sat on a small table.

He withdrew the scrap of paper from his pocket to place it on her pillow. The pillow was already occupied. There was a piece of folded paper waiting there, _Daryl _written in her neat handwriting on the front.

Looking over his shoulder he picked it up, placing his note in its stead.

Peering out into the corridor to be sure nobody was lurking about, he carefully made his way back to his own cell. He sank down onto his bed and sat for a moment collecting himself. He was almost afraid to open it. Was she getting sick of his notes? He found his hands were shaking just the slightest bit as he unfolded the square.

It wasn't very long, just a short paragraph, but it was enough to make his heart pound and his mouth run dry.

Who knew Carol was quite a writer herself?


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: This story just keeps going! I never thought it would be this well-received. Things might be getting steamy soon...  
**_

This was so stupid. She picked up the note. Sat it back down. Shoved it under her pillow. Put it back on the pillow. Finally, biting her lip she carefully put it on the pillow where he was sure to find it when he left her note.

Honestly, his notes. She looked forward to them so much anymore, it was almost all she thought of during the day. She would find herself staring off, thinking about what he would write to her. Some of the things he said…made her shiver. If he felt those things…

She thought back to earlier in the day when she almost fell into him. How he caught her and steadied her with his hands. How strong those hands were. How he let them linger on her waist for just a moment, the heat of them seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt. How he was so close his scent intoxicated her. Leather. Sweat. She bit her lip remembering.

He wasn't the only one who could write how they felt.

She hadn't written since high school. At one time she would write short fantasy stories. Tales of dragons, knights, and distant kingdoms just for fun. In her middle school Literature class her stories always earned A's. Her teacher often kept her after class and encouraged her to continue writing, that she had a talent for it. Life got in the way. Writing was forgotten.

Surely she could put her thoughts down for him. If she could make him feel the way he made her feel...

After a few false starts, she managed to scribble a quick paragraph. She wrote: _When I wake up in the morning I hope for it to be night so I can ready your words. The ghost of your touch today haunts me. Most nights I lay awake hoping against hope you'll gather the courage to come to me and tell me in person what you write me every day. I don't even dare to hope that you would show me. Meet me in the library tonight after everyone is asleep? XO C_

Was it too cheesy? Was it too pushy? Too aggressive? She read and re-read the tiny paragraph. As much as she enjoyed this little game, she wanted more. She didn't like a tease. She was sure if it was up to him, this note passing would continue indefinitely. She had to make a move. This would either encourage him to take the next step or it would be all over.

So there it was. She wrote it. She left it for him to find. The rest was up to him. She gently caressed the little note, hoping somehow the touch would magically transfer to him when he read it. She stood quickly, before she lost her nerve, and went to find Beth so they could get little Judith ready for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN: Here's the final chapter to this little series. Tons of smut in this, so if that isn't your thing just skip this.** _

No more words

Just keep walking. Don't think. Don't stop. He crept through the darkened corridor. The library was just ahead. Was she there? Did she leave? It took him long enough to gather up the courage to go to her. He had sat on his bed with that damn note in his hands for what seemed like forever. He wasn't going to go but he didn't have the heart to stand her up. The least he could do was talk to her. He cared about her way too much to just leave her hanging.

He stopped at the door. Holding his breath, he slowly pushed it open. The hinges whined a slight complaint as the door swung inward. She was there. She had her back to him, standing at a table paging through a magazine of some sort. There was a full moon tonight, so bright as to almost be able to read by, and its light was shining through a window. She stood there bathed in argent moonlight. It made her look otherworldly. Jesus, she was beautiful. She took his breath away. Forget talking.

He stepped through the door. Silently he walked up behind her. She didn't turn around, but looked up and whispered, "You came."

He said nothing but reached out and gently touched her shoulder, slowly grazing her skin with his fingertips moving down to her slender wrist. He repeated the process on her left arm until he was holding both of her hands in his. Still he said nothing. Still she did not turn around.

He bent and grazed the nape of her neck with his lips. She sighed and leaned into him. "You wanted me to show you how I feel." his voice rumbled. "I'm going to show you." He nuzzled her neck and she sighed. Her curls were damp against his lips. There were other damp curls he'd like to explore.

He turned her toward him and his lips found hers. Gentle at first, but weeks of pent up desire bubbled forth and the kiss grew deeper and more fevered. She moaned softly against his mouth.

"I'm going to show you everything." he murmured huskily nipping her throat. "If you want me to stop ya better tell me now." His pants were becoming increasingly tight.

"No. I don't want you to stop." Carol whispered. "I've waited way too long for this."

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pants, he slowly slid them down her hips, pushed them to the floor. The musky smell of her arousal assaulted his senses and he let out an involuntary growl of pure desire.

He knew he wouldn't last, he had to make her come first. "Tell me what ya like." he whispered.

She was taken aback. No man had ever asked her what _she_ liked. Shyly she answered, "I…I don't know."

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding deliciously into her mouth. Breaking off the kiss, he breathed, "How about I try some things and if you like 'em you tell me and if you don't like 'em you tell me?"

She nodded dumbly. She was still in disbelief that this was even happening. Any second she expected to jolt awake in her bed, alone.

He moved to her throat, nipping gently. A bite of desire, marking her as his. She'd have marks to explain tomorrow, that was for certain.

His kissed his way down her throat to her breasts. Latching on to a hardened nipple, he sucked gently. This elicited a gasp of delight. She liked that. He gently squeezed her other nipple between finger and thumb while still sucking. She moved against him, moaning softly.

He abandoned her nipple, leisurely kissing his way down, down to those curls. Gently he kissed her mound then slid his tongue up her slit. She cried out, her fingers wending through his hair, pulling him toward her. She definitely liked that.

His tongue found her clit and gently teased, swirling and softly tugging, until she was whimpering. She was close. He teased for just a bit more, then took two fingers and slid them insider her slick channel. He moved them slowly in and out as he continued his sweet torture.

She shivered as she came, crying his name. He was very glad she chose the library. Her yells would surely have brought unwanted attention.

Rising he held her. She was quivering. "That felt so good." She sounded like she was sobbing. He kissed her deep. She tasted herself on his lips and tongue.

It was his turn.

He laid her back on the old wooden table. Magazines slithered off and fell to the floor. Very briefly he hoped it would hold their weight, but it was solid oak and seemed pretty sturdy.

He undid his pants, finally freeing his aching erection. Again he kissed her deep and whispered softly, "Ya ready?" She only nodded and pulled him to her, her lips hungrily claiming his.

He slid into her velvet slickness. He tried to go slow, but it was a lost cause. He managed five delicious thrusts before spurting deep inside her, growling and snarling his pleasure into her neck as he came.

He didn't pull away immediately. He felt himself growing soft inside her. Her heart thumping against his chest. He wanted to savor her warmth, this closeness.

"Aw damn" he murmured softly, kissing her. "Sorry I didn't last longer for ya."

She smiled up at him, eyes shining. "That's okay." Kissing him softly, she whispered, "I vote instead of a note on my pillow every night, how about I find you on my pillow instead?" With a wicked smile she continued, "You can show me over, and over, and over..."


End file.
